Arm Flab and Pit Bulls

I’ve been exercising lately, it is January after all, and I’m sore.

When you haven’t exercised in like a millenium it’s usually a good idea to start off slow.

I started off slow and I’m still sore.

But you know, in a small way I’m glad I’m sore.  It makes me feel like I actually did something.  Something good for myself.

And perhaps my exercise will help slow down the aging process and keep my arm flab at a minimum.

Teachers must be careful about arm flab.  Let me tell you why. 

I recommend this experiment if you are undecided about whether or not your arm flab is a menace to society.

Imagine yourself in a short sleeve shirt.  Or a tank top if you feel like breaking the dress code.  Something that accentuates your upper arms. 

 You got it? 

Now imagine yourself standing in front of a chalkboard.  A markerboard if you’re in 2011.  There is a room full of young, yet precocious children waiting to soak up the knowledge you are about to bestow upon them.

Are you there?

Okay raise your arm, with chalk or marker poised, and write a sentence on your imaginary board.  Something like “The dog’s balls were round.”

Now pull your mind out of the gutter, this is a lesson on possessive nouns of course.

Go ahead and write it in cursive, it’s a handwriting lesson as well.

Write it big and long, stretch your arm out and write by golly.  Write like you’ve never written before!

Now stop.  Time for an arm flab check.  How’s it doing?  Swinging slightly?  Or did it circle around and nearly slap you in the ear?

A boy in the back of the room just snickered about your possessive noun sentence.  He’s probably got a big brother or two.

You don’t allow snickering in this classroom. 

Get the eraser.  Get it. 

Erase that sentence fast.

Erase it big.

Choose something much more appropriate and repeat.

This now concludes the demonstration. 

So how are you feeling about your arm flab now?

Children are brutally honest and they will point out fat, jiggly arms in a heartbeat.  I only know this from experience.   I no longer wear short sleeves. 

Or write on the board. 

There was a story of a teacher, a rather large teacher who was teaching elementary age students.  The kind who haven’t yet learned the inappropriateness of certain topics.

One day, one of her young boys said in the most horrified voice, “Mrs. B, what IS that?”  while pointing to her flabby upper arm.

“Oh, honey”, the kind, large, gentle teacher replied, “that’s just my ole’ fat arm.”

“Whew”, the boy replied with a sigh of relief.  “I thought it was your titty.”

**********

It’s an issue with kids, don’t ever think it’s not.  It ranks right up there with calling shotgun.  It’s a big deal.

Today I was working with a small group of students.  One of my little angels began talking about her grandma.

This is what she had to say.

“She’s just so flabby.  When she raises her arm,” and the little girl raises her arm to demonstrate, “10 flabs fall out.”

Another student was curious, “What’s a flab?”

The little darling raises her arm again, and proceeds to explain to the child whose family obviously has the thin gene, about  flabby arm fat. 

She waves her hand under the raised arm to indicate the severity and jiggliness of the flabs.

She continues, “They’re  like dogs.  Like pit bulls. ”

 

And then she bares her teeth, shakes her head, and growls ferociously.

I only hope I don’t have your granddaughter in my class. 

Just think, this could be you she’s referring to.

Now go perform 3 sets of 20 triceps presses.

And Hurry!